The Green Witch
by AreWeHavingFunYet
Summary: A very, VERY Hobbit AU fanfic. Imagine that the quest of the dwarves is actually one to simply (or not so simply) slay the dragon and take back Erebor. The rest is the same however, there is no present rush to get there on Durin's Day. I'm using Tolkien's beautiful knowledge, Jackson's fine work, as well as implementing my own creations, so do keep that in mind :)
1. Prologue

It began with the Ents.

The Ents were the first "beings" to be awoken by the elves. They were their first little project, their first try.

But there are few who know about their second try.

The elves, overwhelmed by their magical ability to wake up trees, were at the very least, intrigued by this new, bright, wonderful power. It was this curiosity and determination that bore them the Kuruni.

In the common tongue, they are known as witches, and they are all but forgotten to most who live in Middle Earth. There are some, however, who are familiar with one or two of them.

You see, to "wake up" the witches, the elves had to create beings in their likeness, but out of what? What energy? What life and power?

It was the essences.

Essences are felt anywhere where life is strong and thrives. Any ecosystem that needs elements to fuel itself. And these essences had enough life in them to come to life, and to live in the physical world as a guardian.

The elves created many witches in the beginning. There was a Prairie Witch, a Lake Witch, a Forest Witch, Mountain Witch, and all the rest, one for each of the great places of essence in the world. The elves were jovial and triumphant, teaching these equally immortal beings about their life and their purpose. At first, it was a true companionship, born out of being the protectors of Middle Earth, the guardians of all. But the witches soon saw a different method of doing things.

While elves shared the world with other races, though taking their rightful place as most wise, the witches saw the world to be too valuable and precious to be given to the lesser races of men and dwarves and all else that wandered its plains. And so, to protect what they loved and held most dear, they started to eliminate those who harmed it.

Dwarves who tunneled the mountains, men who plowed fields and cut down trees- any whiff of industry was an enemy. The witches began to wage war upon everyone at once, and the elves were the only force powerful enough to stop them. Thus, the great _Kuruni fara_ ("witch hunt" in the common tongue), took place, and the elves took up war against those they created; those they had once declared friends and companions. Their numbers being too few, the witches were defeated, and those who lived were thrown into unending exile.


	2. Chapter 1

"This forest feels… sick. As if a disease lies upon it. Is there no way around?" Bilbo asked, getting quite the eerie feeling from the bare branches that wormed their way out of the edge of Mirkwood.

"Not unless we go 200 miles north, or twice that distance… south," Gandalf said ahead, investigating the Elvish gate.

All of the dwarves looked on at the dark woods with an uneasy feeling in their stomach. The good feelings they'd taken with them from Beorn's house were drying up in the sight of the forest. Mirkwood truly delivered the promise of its namesake.

"I'd rather risk the North than face this treacherous lair," Dwalin spat, having no time for elves, and even less time for things that made him uneasy.

The dwarves started muttering in agreement, all of them willing to do anything at the moment to avoid the darkness before them.

Loudly, Gandalf spoke above all the dwarves, interrupting their chatter and quarrels.

"And what does the leader of this company say?" Gandalf asked, eyeing Thorin and waiting for his decision. He had learned that arguing with 13 dwarves was a losing battle, and he had already taken them into Elven lands once. He couldn't ask them to do it again, even if his better judgment said they would be safer in the forest than around it.

Thorin debated internally for a moment, looking from the wizard to his kin a few times.

"If 200 miles is all it will take to rid ourselves of this foul looking place, then I am of agreement of my brothers. I would not take the elven path through Mirkwood," he said, steering his pony northward, and allowing his company to follow him. Gandalf scoffed at the stubborn dwarf, but knew there was to be no convincing them otherwise now. He looked down at Bilbo, who still stood beside the bearded wizard.

"Confounded dwarves and their despicable grievances!" he said to the hobbit, before walking back to his horse and climbing on top of it. It was settled. They were to go north instead.

It wasn't long before they realized skirting the forest would only leave them open to enemies. Before they had reached the river that came down from Mount Gunduband, the company again heard the howling of Wargs on the foothills of the Misty Mountains. They urged their ponies forward, but the lands became more and more unfamiliar up ahead. Thorin dropped behind from the position as leader and let Gandalf ride his horse a league or so out in front of them. Fili was second in line, next to Dwalin, Kili held up the end, and the rest of them, dwarves and hobbit, made up the middle.

Gandalf rode on ahead as if he were in familiar territory. Which, for all intensive purposes, he was familiar with the territory, but he did not inform the dwarves of this. He found that the less he told them, the easier it was to make them follow him. Suddenly, he veered east, away from the river and mountains they'd been keeping steadily on their left. This told Thorin that he was, indeed, leading them somewhere after all.

"Where do you take us to, now?" Thorin shouted from behind, trying his hardest to catch up to the wizard. "Surely not another one of your wild, beastly friends!"

Gandalf slowed his horse and allowed Thorin to ride next to him. He looked down at the dwarf sternly from his horse.

"I would remind you of the kindness shown to you by Beorn and his "beastly" ways, using no more than the pony you ride now," he said, putting an end to the dwarf's complaining and kicked his horse further ahead.

Soon, after riding for some time east, they reached the river again, as it turns and runs south, flowing back into Mirkwood. There, in front of them, was a small cottage on the open plains. At least from afar it had looked small; actually when they finally reached the yard, it proved to be quite a large home indeed. It looked to be made partially of stone and partially of logs, something akin to that of a patchwork quilt, just on a much grander scale. There was a wide bridge, adorned with bright green and purple vines that stretched across the river, where the house was nestled. Facing the dwarves, on the southern side of the home was a large water wheel, steadily turning as the current pushed it forward. Behind the house one could hear a rooster crowing, causing other animals to stir. There on the west side, behind a short fence, stood two cows, both too preoccupied with the grass they were eating to lift their heads as they bellowed a long moo.

The horse and ponies took their riders across the bridge, and Gandalf steered them all to the right, where a large field lay, and a single, healthy looking horse galloped up to them, behind a fence. It was a beautiful golden brown, flawlessly groomed, with a black mane and tail, and black around his feet. Gandalf dismounted his horse and slowly, one by one, the dwarves and Bilbo started to do the same. Suddenly, there was deep baying coming from the house.

Out from, presumably, the chicken coop, trotted a humongous dog, the culprit of the barking. He was white, covered in black patches. His long legs brought him up to almost eye level with the dwarves, standing a good two or three inches above Balin and Bombur on just his four legs (on his hind legs he would have easily been the height of a grown man).

"Ah, Bartlebee," Gandalf sighed, a smile stretched across his face. Thorin and the other dwarves relaxed the instinctive grip they had placed on their weapons at the sight and sound of such a beast.

The dog whined softly and his short tail whirred happily back and forth as he walked calmly up to the wizard. Gandalf bent and scratched behind his ears for a moment. Once through, the dog cautiously approached the dwarves, no doubt never having smelled their kind before.

"He's quite friendly, I can assure you," Gandalf told them as he watched their mistrusting faces grow apprehensively. Bartlebee strode up to Bombur, who was easily startled by animals. He sniffed the dwarf for a moment, stared him in the eye, tilted his head, and then, upon deciding the guest was welcome, slurped him right across the face. Kili, Fili, and Bofur broke into laughter as Bombur nearly fell over in surprise. The laughter was soon broken by a voice from the cottage.

"Mithrandir," a woman said softly. A creak was to be heard when she let her front door swing shut behind her. She smiled broadly at the old wizard as she descended down her porch steps. "I had a hunch I would be expecting you. Though I must admit, your company was none too expected," she said, eyeing the dwarves and Bilbo carefully.

"Eskamë," Gandalf said, removing his pointed hat and giving a slight bow in the woman's direction. Though, when she reached him she gripped his arms in a small embrace, welcoming her old friend. "I was hoping I would still find you here," he spoke.

"Ah, yes," Eskamë said, her voice dropping as her gaze fell onto the one dark wall of Mirkwood that could be seen on the southeast horizon. "Ever I dwell in the shadow of the wood I am meant to protect," and she said it sadly, speaking of some former event that only she and Gandalf seemed to be familiar with.

"Gandalf, let us not trouble ourselves with elves anymore," Thorin spoke up. Her ears were the first thing he, and the rest of them, had noticed when she stepped out of her home. While she was a bit short, only five or six inches taller than Thorin himself, there was no mistaking her elvish features. Her ears poked out of chestnut hair that cascaded down her back, curling naturally upwards at the ends. She wore several braids in it, though they were all short, all near the ends of her hair and each were adorned with a different jewel or stone at the bottoms. Her features were soft and elegant, as was her stature and voice. She wore black leggings underneath long black boots that came up past her knees. Above this she wore an emerald green tunic, patched and worn, but of a very strong cloth. This was dress-like in style and went well past her knees, though had a slit that ran up each of her sides to about her waist. Over this she wore a pitch-black cloak, looking to be of the warmest fabric, even causing a little envy among the dwarves, who were beginning the feel the cold evening of the North. She turned towards Thorin, a frown on her face and ice behind her green eyes.

"Thorin!" Gandalf exclaimed, but Eskamë held her hand up to Gandalf, walking over to Thorin, who puffed out his chest as she looked down upon him.

"Antolle ulua sulrim, Thorin, son of Thrain," she hissed, and watched gleefully as the dwarf's expression turned to confusion at the mention of his name. "It would behoove of you to silence yourself more often, if you are to truly become a king of dwarves. For I am no elf, and I do not take kindly to them either," she said, turning away from the company and beginning to lead Gandalf's horse to the stables. She turned back towards Thorin once more as he stood where she had left him, dumfounded though he tried not to look it.

"I am a witch."

"Antolle ulua sulrim" = much wind pours from your mouth


	3. Chapter 2

**Thanks to my silent readers out there :D**

Murmurs spread through the crowd of dwarves like the startling of small birds. Words like "Witch!" and "Legend," and "Died off," speckled the air and filled up the breeze that swirled around the now very tense scene.

Eskamë led Gandalf's horse by the reins, and with a flick of her wrist behind her back, all of the ponies slowly made their way behind her. The dwarves stopped their oppositions for a moment to look positively terrified. Thorin stepped towards Gandalf sternly.

"We will not take any help from her, Gandalf. We did not agree to this," he said, and the rest of the party agreed behind him.

"Thorin Oakenshield, hold your stubborn tongue for half a moment. She has useful knowledge valuable beyond your reckoning!" he half-bellowed at the surly dwarf. Thorin wasn't about to be intimidated.

"I am not about to take advice from any _witch!_" he yelled, turning his head to glare at the woman. Eskamë didn't acknowledge the hateful speech.

"I don't like the way you spit out that word, _dwarf_," she said with her back to him, her attention elsewhere. Then she glanced at him over her shoulder.

"The bridge is there, when you'd like to make your way back the way you came," she pointed behind them, "in case you've forgotten," she said, inviting them to leave her.

Thorin marched toward his pony, whistling as he did so. The small horse stopped, and Thorin grabbed his reins. One by one, the rest of the dwarves did the same, leaving just Bilbo and Gandalf standing still. Thorin was ready to mount his pony when the witch spoke up again.

"That is- unless you were wanting to hear about… _dragons,_" she said, allowing a small grin to dress her face. Thorin did not turn around, but he did stop. He clenched his jaw and wished he could stop running into these questionable people. He didn't sign up for this.

"Thorin, you are in the presence of someone who is, perhaps, the most knowledgeable person to advise you on dragons," Gandalf spoke up first. His tone was as even and he could manage. "I beg you to see reason."

There was what seemed to be a very long silence before Thorin quietly turned himself and his horse back towards the witch. He wordlessly put the reins in her hand and turned to walk slowly away. Reluctantly, with little choice in the matter, the rest of the company did the same.

Eskamë let the ponies trot past her and into the field, taking the reins off of each of them. The last two dwarves to walk back were the younger looking ones. One had dark hair and hardly any beard to speak of, while the other had golden hair and a neat beard with braids in his mustache. She met the eyes of the darker haired one first; he did not seem hateful as the other dwarves, just curious and intrigued. Then her eyes shifted to the blonde, _the more handsome of the two_, she thought, _though also the shorter._

There was less curiosity and a more closed off feel to the blonde one's eyes. He did not hold them open all the way, he dared not leave too much of himself open and vulnerable. And though he was in fact shorter than the brunette, he carried himself somehow above the other dwarf. Truly he held himself higher than many of the other dwarves.

"Brothers…" Eskamë said, making the connection between the two intriguing dwarves. She smiled at the brunette, who offered her almost the hint of a smile back, but then her eyes when back to the steel blue ones of the blonde dwarf. _That hardness,_ she thought, sinking deeply into his eyes. _Where does that come from?_

"Nephews…" she added, then looked over to Thorin. "Of an uncle," she said, and then shut the gate behind the last pony and whistled. Her huge dog trotted over to her side. "Of a king," she stated last, making her way back to her cottage, expecting the company to follow her. She felt better, felt _clearer_, once she could make these connections. As if some piece of the puzzle had already been put together.

The dwarves waited on Thorin to move first, and eventually he did, though he would not meet Gandalf's eyes. He'd had enough of the wizard for one day.

In the rear of the company, Fili still wore a puzzled expression. It had softened somewhat after looking at her, true, but her remarks made him uncomfortable. He rejected many forms of "magic," chalking a lot of things up to coincidences and illusions. So, no doubt, he was skeptic of this witch, as well as very distrusting. He didn't like the way she walked about, seemingly underwhelmed by the rest of them. He didn't like the command she seemed to show over animals, as if she was some innocent little nymph. And he didn't like her eyes.

They were too green, too swirly, and they made his stomach do flips.


	4. Chapter 3

**Thanks to you all for reading :D Sorry I'm moving so slow. I'd planned to go further in this chapter, but it got away from me and I didn't want to make it too long. Next chapter will have some feels. But, hey, you get to picture a shirtless Fili in this one, so you're welcome :P**

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Eskamë walked back into her cottage, letting the dwarves follow her inside if they wished. She hummed to herself softly, barely paying any attention to her visitors as they began to trickle through the door. Then suddenly, she looked up at the lot of them, making their way into her kitchen, as if she'd noticed them for the first time.

"Aiya!" she exclaimed in Elvish, scowling at the startled dwarves. "Take your shoes off in my house! This is no barn!"

The dwarves looked dumbfounded. They rarely took off any of their gear and armor- even for sleeping. They exchanged uneasy and pained looks before Gandalf nodded his head slightly in Thorin's direction. Thorin's jaw clenched again, and he could feel his blood boiling. Still, he remembered that they were here for information, and that it would all be worth it in the end. He began to remove his boots.

"Put them out on the porch by mine," the witch said, back to all but ignoring them.

"Oi! You've left your shoes on!" Oin protested, pointing at the black boots that were still on her feet. She looked up at him slowly, a sly grin now on her face.

"Aye, but they are my boots in _my_ house," she said simply. "And yours are filthy anyway. My dog has better manners," and she turned to Bartlebee, who gazed up at her with affection.

"You mean that _horse_," one dwarf said under his breath. A few others snickered as they exited the kitchen to place their boots on the front porch. Eskamë smiled and pulled something out of a pouch on her hip that resembled an old, shriveled steak. She held it out for the dog, who took it graciously.

Now shoeless and a bit uncomfortable, the dwarves gathered in the front parlor, not quite sure of where to go next. Eskamë walked in and pulled a chain that hung down slightly from the ceiling. It opened a small overhead door that revealed a short ladder that led up to the attic. She disappeared up the steps and came back down in a moment, her arms full of blankets and rags.

" 'Fraid I don't do a lot of entertaining nowadays, so I don't have much food to offer you. Still, I had a hunch I'd be having some visitors, so I've a couple hams roasting out back," she said and started handing a blanket and a rag to each of the men. "You gentlemen feel free to clean yourselves up by the riverbank while I tend to supper. The water runs clear today so it's quite safe for washing," she commented, which did nothing but stir up the dwarves' morbid curiosity.

She then walked back into her kitchen, leaving the company to stand and quietly debate on what to do next. Before they could look to Thorin to see if he planned on going along with her wishes, she popped her head through the doorway.

"That was less of a suggestion and more of a request."

Begrudgingly, the dwarves made their way down to the edge of the river as Eskamë had suggested, and began to clean themselves up a bit. At first they were very unwilling and annoyed. But as the time went on and they started to swim and float around in the river, they began to relax. Even Dwalin, who had a hotter head than Thorin, was quiet and at peace as he scrubbed his face, leaving it a whole shade whiter than how it started.

"What do you think she meant about the water being 'safe?'" Kili asked his brother who was sitting on a rock, scrubbing his socks in the water. His hair and bead still dripped steadily from his time in the water, but he'd left his tunic in the grass, so the water ran down his bare chest and back.

"Haven't a clue. Probably just her nonsense witchcraft or what have you," he said. While he led on that he was uninterested in discussing any bit about the woman, in truth, he hadn't been about to get his mind off of her. What did she mean? What happens when the water doesn't run clear?

Kili, who had been floating along on his back, sat up in the water and looked around. While he knew none of his kin was particularly happy about their plans for the evening, you wouldn't have guessed it by looking at them now. Here were a dozen dwarves practically _frolicking_ in the water, for lack of a better term. It was an uncanny sight. While they were weary from travel and unfamiliarity and confusion, they were now content and downright _beaming_. The time in the river had left them all clean and refreshed on the outside, but something twinkled behind their eyes. Something Kili hadn't seen since the night they all reunited in Bilbo's home.

"Witchcraft…" he muttered, now looking at his brother, who looked deep in thought. "Fili," he started, "You don't think she's done something to this water, do you?"

At this, Fili looked up from his socks. He glanced at the rest of the dwarves and noticed just what Kili had. He couldn't deny that there was something rather funny about them all wading about, and it wasn't just the naturally funny sight of wet dwarves. Part of Fili wanted to agree with his younger brother, but part of him was still very cynical about this whole "witch" business. He scoffed.

"Don't be foolish."


	5. Chapter 4

**Thanks to all of you readers, followers, and favoriters! Now if I could just get a few reviewers ;)**

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"Sit where you wish, I'm sorry the furniture isn't nicer," Eskamë motioned towards her old armchairs and wooden benches that were placed in her parlor. "As I said before, I don't do much entertaining."

She walked over to the fireplace and took a pinch of some sort of powder out of a small leather bag on her mantel. She tossed it onto the logs in the fireplace, and within the blink of an eye, fire roared in the pit.

"I'll be needing some more logs to keep that going through supper," she said, looking around at the company. Her eyes settled on Dwalin. "You there, fetch a few at the back of the chicken coop if you'd be so obliged." Dwalin, still feeling the effects of the river, did so without so much as a grumble.

"And you, sir," she said, putting a hand on Kili's shoulder, "If you wouldn't mind getting me a couple of buckets of water from the well," she said, motioning to the front of the house, where the well stood a way's a away from the porch.

She started to head back into the kitchen, when she stopped and looked at the party once more.

"I'll be needing an extra set of hands in the kitchen to help me with the noodles," she stated, waiting this time for a volunteer. None of the dwarves looked too eager to help out. Fili was the closest to the doorway.

"You," she said, grabbing the blonde dwarf by the wrist, "You've smaller hands."

The woman led Fili into the kitchen, where a big oak table was covered in a thin layer of flour. On the corner was perched a large white cloth sack, still over half full of the flour. She held out a plain grey apron to Fili. He looked at it and arched an eyebrow back at the witch.

"You'll have it all over you if you don't put it on," she said convincingly enough, as he took it and tied it on.

"I don't keep much more food than I need myself, but noodles are an easy way to fill up a crowd," she said, dipping her hands in the bag of flour and rubbing them together. She motioned for Fili to do the same. She then pulled two bowls from under the cabinet, each with a large ball of dough neatly balled up in them. She placed one in front of Fili and took one for herself. She began to work the dough with her skilled fingers, but she noticed Fili motionless.

"Have you never made noodles before?" she asked with genuine curiosity. Fili shook his head but said nothing. "Well do as I do," she added. She laid the dough on the table and began kneading it. She watched as Fili tried to imitate her but began stumbling over his fingers. She grinned, but felt bad for him, so she walked around the table to him.

"No, no- like this," she said, taking one of his hands beneath her own and pressing down with his gently, showing him the proper way to push the dough. Though he was small in stature, she marveled at how even just his hand, wrist, and fingers felt so strong in her palm. The skin was marred and scarred; it was rough like sandstone, even covered in the smooth flour. Eskamë's eyes lingered on his hands and trailed up his forearm. It was sun marked and brawny, matching the hands. It seemed so strong, so protecting, she imagined how the muscles would feel flexing in her hands. When she realized she'd let her hand linger too long over his, she pulled back and turned to pretend to be busy while the blush on her cheeks faded away.

Fili had noticed her gentle touch and the distinguishable awkwardness of the moment caused after it. He stalled for a moment as she turned away from him, and he realized he was breathing harder than he was before she'd touched him. He briefly blamed it on some form of witchcraft and then fought with himself as he remembered he didn't believe in such nonsense.

Once the dough was kneaded, they rolled it out flat and then rolled it up like parchment. Eskamë showed Fili how thickly and widely to slice it for noodles, and handed him the knife as she went to fish more things out of her many cabinets. They were silent and the tension bothered her greatly. She reached out and felt the emotion of the room and inside of him.

"Oh, for goodness sake, I didn't put a spell on you," she said and laughed at the sheer thought of it. Fili was startled by her ability to read his mind so easily and slipped as he sliced the next noodle.

"Agh!" he said, the little knick catching him by surprise. He pulled back his hand in reflex.

"Oh, let me see," Eskamë said, walking over to him with her hands out. Fili pulled his hands quickly down to his sides, wrapping his cut finger in the side of his tunic.

"No, don't bother, it's nothing," he said quickly, looking up at her with almost a fear in his eyes.

"Oh please, let me have a look, I've got a potion that'll heal a cut faster than lightning strikes," she said, still holding out her hands expectantly. He remained still.

"I'd rather not," he said icily, not wanting to get involved with any of the witch's _potions._

She lowered her hands and eyed him carefully before shrugging and going back to pretending the dwarf might have not even existed. She turned back to her cabinets and said just barely over her shoulder, "Well I can't have you bloodying up supper, so you're no more used to me in here."

He stood for a moment, looking as if he had more to say, before he started to exit the kitchen. Reaching out once more and reading his emotions, feeling his discomfort and _why_, she smirked to herself.

"Send me that cute brother of yours to finish up for you when he gets back with the water," she toyed, not needing to turn around to know he looked back before he walked out.


	6. Chapter 5

**So good to hear from a few of you! Thanks again for all of the follows and favorites. Feedback (specifically what you like or *gulp* don't like) is always so very, very welcome :)**

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Nearly an hour later, the entire company could be seen crowed around the witch's dining table, hovering over a steaming meal as Eskamë, in being a good host, circled around, serving drinks, lending forks, and dishing out spoonfuls.

"Watch it!" she yelled at Kili, who bobbed below her arm as he climbed across the table. She scowled but laughed in spite of herself. They really were a cheery bunch, when they wanted to be.

When it finally appeared that all of the guests had full plates and had begun diving in, Eskamë went to get herself a plate and two wine glasses. Then she pulled a dusty bottle of red wine out of a low cabinet.

"Gandalf?" she asked, holding out a glass to him.

"Why I wouldn't mind a glass at all!" he said, and she filled both glasses. Instead of taking one for herself she walked over to Thorin, who was agreeable, but quiet.

"This will help with your head," she said, offering him the glass. A few of the dwarves looked over at them, confused. Thorin hadn't mentioned his head to anyone. He looked at her for a moment, debating on whether or not it was worth it to refuse the glass. He lowered his eyes and gently took the glass.

"Thank you," he said, barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry it's not much," she said, breaking the end off of a loaf of bread and passing it down the table. There were a few polite remarks among the bunch of them. "If I'd have my way, we'd have eggs. Eggs go best with ham," and there were several "Ayes!" that filled the room.

"Chickens not productive lately?" Bilbo asked, his neck and shoulders barely visible over the edge of the tall table not meant for hobbit-sized folk.

"N'uma," she said in Elvish, shaking her head. "The wargs have killed nearly all of my chickens," and she looked directly at Gandalf as she said this. "The mountains are full of them of late."

"So this is not the first time they've been in these lands?" Fili asked, suddenly intrigued. She turned to him.

"No, no… they have become quite familiar with the northern lands. Though I see not why," she said, and again glanced towards the wizard.

Fili's eyes lingered on Eskamë for a moment. He watched her hands flutter around the table. They were small, but they were strong. He noticed a jade colored ring around her right thumb. At first glance it seemed to be made of a stone, but the longer he looked at it he thought it was a thin vine, wrapped around her finger. When it started to resemble a shined stone again, he tore his eyes away, frustrated. As he looked up, her eyes met his and she smiled while he simply looked away.

"It's a witch's ring, Master Fili," she said. Fili felt the same as Thorin had when she'd read his mind moments earlier. It unsettled him, and he wished she would stop.

"So you read minds then do you? What am I thinking now?" Fili snapped back. Kili laughed with his mouth full.

"Bad idea, miss," Kili warned the witch, "Never anything good to be found in there," he said, laughing again and elbowing Fili in the ribs. A few of the dwarves laughed, while Fili smirked.

"I don't read minds, master dwarf," Eskamë said, taking a drink of her ale. "I read _emotions. _You saw the ring and I felt confusion. When Thorin's head troubled him, the air was thick with discomfort," and she motioned toward Thorin.

"And how does one read emotions?" Fili asked her boldly, a smirk still on his lips. As they held eye contact she narrowed her own eyes, feeling suddenly very alone with the blonde dwarf, though a dozen of his kin, plus more, reminded around her.

"That, my friend, is about as useless as asking a bird how he takes flight," she said, tearing her eyes away from him, but all the while feeling his on her.

After dinner was finished and the dishes washed and put up for drying, Eskamë put water on for tea in the parlor fireplace. The night had made the room dim but the light of the fire gave them enough to see each other clearly. The witch set out to start getting some tea together.

"You make your own tea?" Bilbo asked, peering at the leaves she was sorting. She smiled.

"Yes, Master Baggins. Rarely do I get merchants in these lands. Once in awhile a vagabond will wander through with some wine or some type of brew, but for the most part I make everything," she said, growing quickly fond of the inquisitive hobbit.

"You'll be hard pressed to find a better cup of tea than that of Eskamë's here," Gandalf spoke up, between puffs on his pipe.

"Mithrandir, diola lle," she thanked him, flattered and grinning. "You jest. My tea is very simple," she insisted.

"Annette Bolger used to sell me the finest tea leaves in the South Farthing, I'm sure of it," Bilbo insisted. "It was sweet enough with no sugar- just perfect!" he said, and then shut his eyes for a moment, lost in the memories of his comfortable home.

"Ah, well this tea is none too sweet, but it is smooth and calming," Eskamë said softly.

"Enough about tea," Thorin spoke up suddenly. "We have taken your hospitality and been grateful for it. But now we must discuss what we came here for," he said sternly. "How do you know about dragons?"

"While I would normally remind you that you came here for no more than a little refuge," she said, causing Thorin to, once again, clench his jaw, "I will agree with you Thorin. I will tell you my story," and she began to pour the hot water into mugs as she walked about the dwarves gracefully.

"Do you know how the witches came to exist?" she asked none in particular. Kili sat up straight.

"Mother always said the elves made them. Pulled them up from the ground," he said seriously. Fili snorted.

"That was a bedtime story, Kili," he reminded his brother, to the amusement of the others. "It wasn't true."

"Not entirely," Eskamë said to Fili as she poured his tea. "We did come from the elves, though, no, we were not born from the earth."

The witch filled the last cup- her own- and set it on an end table near her armchair. She pulled a long black sweater off of the back of the chair and pulled it over her slender arms.

Every time she seemed move, she did so with the same grace as the elves. Ordinarily Fili wouldn't think anything of it, as he thinks very little of elves. But for some reason he found her movements captivating. He caught himself with his eyes on her more than he would care to admit, but every time, he went back for another glance, another _taste_. She sat down, tucking her legs beneath her, and took quick sip of her tea before continuing.

"We were created from the great essences of the world. The magical places that nature put enough energy in to create, well, life, in the most advanced of forms. There were witches that existed in the essences of the mountains, the prairies, and the forests, like myself. And, of course, there were many others as well.

"We are immortal like the elves, but our life is tied very closely with the essence from which we were created. I, for example, cannot stray too far from Mirkwood, or I become very weak. The very fiber of my being would cease to exist if I hadn't any forest."

"Then why do you not live _inside_ the forest?" the hobbit asked.

"I will get to that, my friend," she said patiently, and then continued. "The witches, or Kuruni in the mother tongue, were companions to the elves and guardians of the land. But, in protecting the land, some witches grew dark and obsessed with eliminating any threat to their beautiful homes. The Kuruni Wars, while brief, were ruthless and devastating. Eventually the elves had to step in and destroy their creations.

"The great Kuruni Fara was the hunting of the witches of Middle Earth. The hunting of my people," she said, and gazed into the fire, a thick silence settling upon the group.

"There were some of us who were able to hide. I took to the north, seeking any patch of trees to take refuge. I'd grown weary and thin, and I'd almost given up hope. But then, I found it," and as she said this last statement, her eyes seemed to turn to stars and fade away into the past. Fili watched her with growing interest as she described the northern forest.

"It was a beautiful land, untouched by the hands of men, or even elves. It was an ancient place, yet it invited me to its branches. Trees as tall as mountains grew here, trees whose leaves shined every color in the bright, bright sun," she spoke, closing her eyes, lost in memory. Fili liked to hear her talk about this place, this home. It reminded him of when his uncle Thorin would speak of Erebor.

"I stayed here for some time before I learned of the land's secrets- before I learned what it hid in the lowest valleys."

"Dragons," Fili said without thinking. He was suddenly quite caught up in the lady's story, forgetting his present company.

"Yes," she said, meeting his eyes again. This time she smiled, and Fili felt goosebumps grow on his arms, as a warm, peaceful heat seemed to envelope him as he noticed the soft curve of her lips. "Dragons."


	7. Chapter 6

**As always, thanks for the continued interest and maybeleaveacomment?**

**:D**

* * *

"So you lived with them then?" Thorin questioned, his interest peaking.

"Yes, for many a year," Eskamë nodded.

"Then you must have slain dozens of dragons!" Bofur chimed in. The rest of the dwarves eagerly agreed. Eskamë frowned.

"I said I _lived _with them, master dwarf. I helped them, watched them- loved them," she said softly. "They were my kin when I had none. My friends when the whole world abandoned and feared me. No dragon has ever died by my hands, and I should like to keep it that way."

"Then what good do you have to offer us?" Thorin spoke, getting angry again so soon.

"My dear Thorin," the witch said with a kind of sickening sweetness, "I have not finished my story," and so the dwarves sat back in ease as she continued.

"I did not seek them out at first, of course. I ignored them, hid from them- simply let them be. But once I found a sick one, lying in the woods in the evening, accepting death to overcome him. I took him and nursed him to health.

"Blue he was, in color. A dark, rich blue, and with red eyes that gleamed like pools of blood. And yet," she continued, noting several grimaces at the animal's description, "He was gentle, and kind, and he let me help him. A baby he was, only about the size of a great horse. I fed him, watered him, gave him medicine, and in all of a few weeks, he was healthy again, which was good because he was quickly outgrowing my barn.

"He departed my house, and I thought that to be the end of him. But only days went by when I heard a great rustle in the forest. It was as if the winds of a hurricane had settled down in my wood. Alas, it was not the weather, but a great, full grown dragon perching itself in my yard.

"This dragon too was blue with red eyes, a mother of the sick one I had cared for. When I stepped out to behold her, I could not tell if this was to be my end or not; no fire breathed down upon me, but I was nervous nonetheless. Instead of killing me, however, she offered me kind words, and a gift."

Eskamë now stood up from her chair and walked to her mantle. From it, hidden behind old jars and candles, she picked up a large gold coin, one that fit snugly into the palm of her hand.

"You were given gold from a _dragon?_" Kili asked in disbelief. Her eyes did not leave the treasure in her hands and she turned it and studied its surface.

"Dragons hoard their treasure, yes, but that is just their nature. They love gold, and they are drawn to it. As I am drawn to the forest and breathe in the life of the trees, they too must find a treasure. So, it is with only their utmost respect and reverence do they ever _give_ any of it away. And even when they do, it is rarely more than one piece. Still," she smiled, holding the coin up in the light, "it is a fine piece to behold."

She handed it to Thorin who turned it over in his hands, reading the markings on either side, or at least attempting to.

"This is very ancient gold. From long before any of my kin brought forth treasure from the mountains," he said, impressed in spite of himself.

"Yes," the witch replied. "I have never found anyone who could identify it. None now live who have ever seen such a piece," and she put the coin back on the mantle. "Those dragons showed me great kindness in those days, and I returned it. I became a guardian of their woods, a watchman, a gatekeeper. But darkness could not leave the beasts be. With strength as great as the dragons have, it was only a matter of time before a darker power looked to them.

"The witch King of Angmar lived uncomfortably close to the dragon valley. For years, though his mind had long grown evil, he ignored them and used his sorcery elsewhere. But eventually, when the Dark Lord Sauron began to take over new lands, the wrath of Angmar spread. He bewitched the dragons, turning them evil, making them forget all things good in the world, save their love for gold and, now, their love of death. A witch, though I am, I was no match for such magic. They turned against me, and I fled south."

Fili, who had been very quiet this entire time, wasted no moment in looking anywhere but at Eskamë. Her words swirled around him, mixed with fire and the smoke from Gandalf's pipe. He smiled when she smiled, he frowned when she frowned, he _felt_ her pain at losing her home, her loved ones, as beastly as they may have been. Fili could have listened to her speak for hours on end, enchanted by her stories, and, again, he wondered if he really was being enchanted. But, for the first time, he did not fight it, and simply enjoyed her presence.

"Eventually, I came to Mirkwood," she said, breaking the silence and signaling an end to her tale. "It became the only place I could call home since my departure from my beloved northern woods. That is, until Thranduil, King of the Wood Elves, decided peace wasn't for his liking, and ordered me slain, should I ever step foot in their land again," and she spit these words out as if they left her with a bad taste.

"_Their land,_" she said icily. "I was guardian of that land, I kept watch, I protected the elves more than they knew."

The story now over, the dwarves sat in silence. Some of them grew tired, as the day had been long and troubling. Some were more awake now than when they first took a seat in front of the fire.

"Rest in here tonight," Eskamë said, standing up from her seat. "I have blankets to give you, though it stays warm in these months through the night. We will discuss more in the morning," she said, and none argued with her. They were finally realizing just how fortunate they were for such hospitality, and were too weary to object anymore.

Soon all of the company were nestled in blankets, pillows, and cushions, and the snoring had created a regular hum in the front parlor. Eskamë walked about the house still, though her feet made no noise at any step she took. It was only when he felt a colder night air on his face that Fili roused. He had just seen the front door shut silently.

Quietly as he could, and taking care not to step on any of his friends, Fili made his way to the door and stepped out on the porch. All was dark, save for a lantern to the left. Next to it, stood the witch, who looked to the moon.

"You should be resting, Master Fili," she said, not breaking her eyes away from the moon. Swiftly, thin clouds began to cover the white orb in the sky.

"What are you doing?" Fili asked curiously.

Instead of answering, Eskamë turned her attention to the dwarven boots that were laid out before her, where everyone had left them at her request. Under her breath she muttered a spell that didn't sound entirely elvish, or entirely like any language Fili was familiar with. As her words continued, steam began to rise up from the shoes, and the dirt and wear they once showed began to clear up before his eyes.

"There, all clean," she said, and smiled at Fili. "I even have a good charm repelling water that I put upon them. You could let them go in the river all the way to Rohan and they'd still pop out dry as a bone."

"Thank you," Fili said, not knowing what else to say, but still being very grateful for the magic. She smiled at the blonde dwarf, recalling briefly how handsome she found him- especially now, in the night, when he wore less armor and coats, and simply looked more _real_ to her eyes. Not one to stare, she turned her eyes to the sky once more.

"There'll be a great rain tomorrow, one that will be none too brief. Your company should rest here for another day," she said simply.

"You read the stars too?" Fili asked, as he walked over to where she stood at the edge of the porch. Eskamë laughed.

"The weather is hardly the stuff of magic, Fili," she said looking down at him. "But yes, I do."

Fili looked at the stars, noting how they seemed so unreachable to him, so insignificant.

"There is nothing I wish to see in the stars," he said bluntly.

"I have met many just like you," she said quietly. "Skeptics. Always refusing to believe anyone but themselves could possibly present their future to them," and she found his icy eyes, even in the darkness. "And they are right."

The statement confused Fili, who had expected her to defend her ways and practices, not agree with him. Seeing his confusion, she continued.

"There is naught but emotion in the future. Even the highest of elves cannot see the world exactly as it will lay out. Everyone has a choice. Everyone could become _anyone_," she said, looking back to the sky, but frowning once she beheld whatever it was she saw. She strained further, searched more towards the east, but still, her brow was furrowed.

"What is it?" Fili asked. She turned to him, a sweet seriousness in her face.

"Would you believe me if I told you?" she said and smiled.

"I might," the young dwarf said with a smirk. Slowly, Eskamë's smiled faded and her eyes became very serious indeed as she leaned down, closing a bit of the distance between Fili and herself.

"Your brother will need you, and sooner rather than later, I fear," she said, barely above a whisper and almost gravely. Fili's expression turned fearful at once.

"What is it? What will happen? Is Kili going to be alright?" he questioned intensely. Eskamë put a hand on his shoulder, and immediately Fili felt calmer.

"I told you, it is only emotion I see, no more," she said. Then, seeing his dissatisfaction at this response, she added, "Just be there for him, Fili, as I know you would be inevitably."

For a moment they stood as they were, calm and being calmed by each other's presence. There was a slight chill in the air, but nothing too tremendous to drive them indoors. Then Eskamë's eyes fell upon Fili's forearm. A cut, about from the inside of his elbow almost to his wrist was scabbed over and violently red. While it didn't bleed at the moment, she could tell it was agitated.

"I have something for that," she said, and began to walk down the steps to where dozens of strange plants sat, framing the front of her house.

"Oh, it's nothing, don't bother," Fili insisted, not wanting to think a simple cut was cause for concern. Still, she rummaged through bushes, plucking berries and a few leaves. These she crushed with a mortar and pestle, which Fili knew not the origin of; they just seemed to appear. When she had a paste ready for him, she reached out for his arm. He waved her off.

"Do not be stubborn, lest you'd like to lose your arm," she insisted, which caused Fili to relent. She took his forearm in her hands, caressing the callous skin with her ointment. Fili felt his insides tremor at her touch, and he secretly savored the moment in time. Her fingers, though strong and worn through much hard work, were soft and gentle. They almost danced across his skin, mesmerizing him with both the sight of them, and the touch of them.

"What about me?" he asked, seemingly out of nowhere. She looked up at him, confused.

"What about you?"

"You read my brother's stars, not mine. Why do you not tell me my future?" he asked, partially in attempt to flirt and talk with her more, and partially because it did interest him. She looked back down at his arm and smiled.

"I told you the future that was of greatest interest to you. Your brother's fate is more important to you than your own," she said, looking up at him warmly. Fili had no reply, for she was right.

"But," she continued, "I can say you have the courage of kings, Fili. Courage that is not easily given up on." Fili felt a bit of blood rush to his face; it was not in the nature of dwarves to compliment each other, and so he did not quite know what to say in return.

"All dwarves have courage," he grunted, not looking up at her. She laughed, still gently rubbing in the cream over his wound. She was at his wrist now.

"Do not be stubborn," she teased. When he still did not look at her, she slid her fingers down his wrist, and took his hand in her own. At this new touch, he looked at her, suddenly overwhelmed by the air that they were sharing. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper, and Fili believed that in that moment, there was nothing that could ever take his attention away from the green eyes he'd suddenly found himself so lost in.

"It is only when others see it within us, that one's nobility is pure of heart," she said, gently squeezing his hand. Fili took his free hand and brushed her rich brown hair behind her ear.

"You are beautiful, Eskamë, Witch of the Northern Forest," he said humbly. "Not even the most stubborn of dwarf could dare deny that," and at the smile and soft blush that came from his words, he leaned upwards as she leaned in towards him, and they kissed softly beneath the moonlight.


	8. Chapter 7

**Sorry it took my so long my lovelies! As always, I'm eternally grateful to you who read, review, and/or follow. Thanks for the motivation :)**

* * *

When the morning arrived, the cottage was quiet and deceptively so, as not all who were within its walls slept. To be sure, there was one witch and one blonde dwarf who had hardly shut their eyes.

Eskamë rose first, not wanting to waste any more time. For the sky lit up clear this morning, and she knew what she must help the dwarves do next. She washed up discreetly and changed to fresh robes. She was unfolding an older tunic that lay near the bottom of her chest of clothes when she stopped to admire it. It was blue, but with an old weathered look that made it seem gray as well. Naturally, she was drawn more to greens and golds; always the forest dictated her choices, even in the most unexpected ways. For some reason, however, the blue color caught her eye on this morning. She smiled as her fingers traced the stitching on the fabric. The blue was familiar to her, and she knew exactly why.

She'd thought of little else in her few hours of restless sleep. Fili had entranced her somehow, in a way that was completely unfamiliar to her. She'd never allowed herself to bond with any being in a way that exceeded friendship. Her mind never wandered there, it never felt tempted. She was always caught up in the ways of the world and of nature and her essence to be troubled with things like _love_.

But Fili had kissed her. And she kissed him. Even now, the memory left her breathless.

It was an unlikely pair- a witch and a dwarf. But, then again, so was their meeting in the first place. Still, she knew it was a fool's game to be playing. She knew it could go nowhere and was, at best, a fleeting release of emotion in the midst of some very confusing turmoil. Eskamë knew she had felt drawn to him, even the first time she laid eyes on him. Consciously, she attributed it to his bold charm and handsome physique. Subconsciously, however, she knew it ran deeper than that. She wanted to open him up, hear is thoughts, know his heart and what troubled it. But, in all her discoveries, she too left herself vulnerable. He had seized the opportunity to turn the tables on her, amazingly, without her even noticing. The kiss surprised her and even worried her for a moment. But after the initial shock she realized it was a great desire of hers all along. To be Fili's, to kiss him and caress him, to _feel _for him. Even-

She shook her head. If she started throwing the word "love" around after only one strange day, she would never forgive herself. Still, the idea didn't leave her brain entirely.

Eskamë put on the blue tunic and went into her kitchen to prepare a breakfast for her guests. As she mentioned the evening before, she hadn't any eggs, but she had all the right ingredients to make a large batch of biscuits, and plenty of butter and milk, so she lit the fire and started cooking quietly, waiting for the dwarves to stir. She was nearly finished with her first batch when she heard motion in the front room. Soon after, Gandalf entered her kitchen with a smile.

"Good moring, Mithrandir," she said softly, greeting him as she rolled dough out in front of her.

"Morning," he said, with a nod. He took a seat on a stool near the window and pulled out his pipe.

"The skies are clear today; the rain made its way south," she said as she worked. She implied something with her tone of voice.

Gandalf took a puff on his pipe, not letting it show if he knew what she spoke of or not. When she looked over at him, he have a short nod. Just then they were interrupted.

"Do I smell breakfast, miss?" Bofur asked, now standing in the doorway. Eskamë grinned at him.

"Why yes, master dwarf. And you're just in time to set the table," she said, motioning to the cabinets where dishes were kept. Bofur nodded and eagerly went to help, a couple of dwarves filing in behind him. They each grabbed plates, jugs, knives, forks, and anything else they could carry in their short but broad arms.

Eskamë flitted around her kitchen and pulled out a large copper pot.

"This should be big enough for grits," she said to herself. "And now to just get the bacon."

"Bacon?" Gandalf said, eyeing her quizzically. "A little much for a witch who's in short supply is it not?" he questioned her.

"It'll be spoiled by the time we get back," she said simply, and there passed a moment when Gandalf did, indeed, understand her, and the moment passed in silence.

* * *

The breakfast was large, perhaps larger than the dinner the night before. There was a good deal of bacon that made the dwarves instantly happy (it had been a good number of nights since they had been able to eat fresh bacon). There was also a large pot of grits that even Bilbo remarked was "seasoned perfectly!" There were more than enough biscuits, even for a group of hungry dwarves. And to go along with them, a various assortment of jellies, marmalades, and jams that were all but demolished. Plus, there was nearly a bushel of golden apples, a couple of partial wheels of cheese, and plenty of fresh milk to go around.

"Now _that_ was a feast," Dwalin announced once the table had been reduced to scraps. There were nods and words of agreement.

"Indeed, that was quite a feast," Thorin agreed. "But I must ask, why did you cook us such a feast? Surely that exhausted much of your supplies?" he asked the witch.

"Ah, of course nothing could get by you, Lord Thorin," she remarked, smiling in his direction. "And you are right- it was not without reason," she said, and stood up and began to gather plates. "We will be leaving shortly."

"Leaving?" Bilbo asked, concerned. "But we've only just settled in."

"You are adventurers, my young hobbit," Eskamë replied, looking down at him. "You do not _settle_ anywhere."

"And where is it we will be leaving to?" Thorin asked. Eskamë continued to clear the table, now helped by Fili and Kili. She replied, unseen, from her kitchen.

"We will be journeying north, to the land of Ered Mithrin," she said, and there were more than a few anxious glances between the dwarves at the table.

"You mean to take us to the dragons?" Balin asked, with knowledge of what lay in those lands. Eskamë appeared once more before them.

"I will take you to the outskirts of their lands, Balin. If all goes well we will not even _see_ a dragon on our journey," she said, sitting back down before them.

"And if all _doesn't_ go well?" Dwalin asked suspiciously.

"Well, then you will be able to have a practice run before you reach Erebor then, won't you?" the witch asked him, causing him to shrink back down in his chair.

"But what is the reason, m'lady?" Balin questioned.

"A dragon's hide is harder than any weapon you possess between the lot of you. The only thing that can pierce dragon scales is dragon fire itself," she said simply.

"And?" Kili asked, now sitting back down next to his brother.

"_And_," she continued, "we will be needing some dragon fire," she said as if the solution was obvious.

"But how can one contain dragon fire?" Fili asked, confused but not at all mistrusting. He no longer harbored doubt about Eskamë's knowledge and her intentions. Instead, he harbored many new feelings toward the witch, but those he tried to ignore for the time being. Though it was hard when she met his eyes from time to time and he felt alone and warm and vulnerable in her gaze.

This was one of those times.

Eskamë found his blue eyes, and though she only held them for a second, she savored the iciness and smiled.

"You cannot, master Fili. But there are ways to harness the power that it leaves behind."

"Ash," Gandalf said, nodding in his belated understanding of what the witch was up to.

"Yes, Mithrandir. What you dwarves need is black arrows. You may be familiar with them?" she asked, and Thorin's eyes turned away, his mind taken back in memory. He nodded solemnly, as did Balin at his side.

"Black arrows are the only way in which you will be successful in this adventure to reclaim your mountain. Dragon fire ash is what turns it black, but, more importantly, it is what makes a black arrow forged so strongly and so perfectly. I will help you collect enough ash, and you will take it to Erebor, where you will fire it in the forges left by your people," she said decisively. Thorin wasn't entirely convinced.

"And how are we supposed to fire them _before_ we kill the dragon?" he asked in disbelief.

"That," Eskamë began, "Is _your_ task, master Thorin. I have already given you far more information than you had when you set out on this quest to begin with. And by mere chance it is, that you came to me at all," she spoke to him, but still he seemed unconvinced. "Tell me, what did you plan on doing once you reached the mountain?" she asked, and the room fell silent, as Thorin had no answer, and neither did any other being in the room.

"Then it is settled," Gandalf spoke up, breaking the tension. "We will depart as soon as our provisions are ready."

"I'm going near the foothills to gather supplies- herbs, medicines, and the like. You all are welcome to any of my stores, for nothing will be fresh upon my return. We should be able to leave before noon," Eskamë said, grabbing a burlap bag that hung on a peg near her front door. She reached for a cloak when she looked back at the lot of dwarves.

"I would, however, like some accompaniment. It will make my trip shorter," she said, fully knowing the tiny bit of truth in this statement. She had other motives, and they had nothing to do with her haste.

"Fili," she started, "Grab your knives and I will saddle your pony," and she walked out the door, not waiting for his reply.


	9. Chapter 8

**I do believe this is the longest chapter yet (which is also part of the reason it will leave you hanging), but I had a blast writing it- it just spilled out. Writing awkward Fili was so much fun and this chapter really turned into a bigger chunk of the story than I intended. More to come soon! And thank you to all of my readers- you are literally the reason I write this. I love storytelling :)**

**Also, just to make sure no one is confused: the large bit in italics in the very beginning is a memory of Fili's from the night before. I hope I made it clear!**

* * *

Fili stepped onto the front porch and saw Eskamë saddling her horse. It was the lone golden and black one he'd seen when they first arrived. Beside her, a pony was saddled and ready.

The blonde dwarf felt eyes upon him and glanced over his shoulder to the windowpane that revealed a bit of the front room, and a bit of his uncle. His eyes were stern and Fili swallowed, feeling his stomach lurch. He straightened up and looked forward once more, all the while replaying the all too recent memory in his head.

_Fili stealthily closed the front door behind him, glad to hear the steady snoring of the dwarves- it meant none of them had awoken._

_Well, almost none of them._

_"Fili, where have you been?" he heard a voice, that of his uncle, to his left, where the kitchen lay. He jumped, not at all prepared to speak to anyone, let alone Thorin. He hesitated, the right words not coming to him. His first notion was to lie, but his conscious told him Thorin would suspect it. Still, when his mind went to telling the truth, he knew that wouldn't be at all helpful at the present time._

_As if reading his mind, Thorin spoke again before the young dwarf could answer._

_"It would do you no good to lie to me," he said. His arms were folded in front of his chest and he looked down at Fili, just like he had so many times when he and Kili were children in need of scolding. Fili thought it best to lower his eyes and say nothing at all (he didn't want to give too much away in case Thorin hadn't seen _everything).

_"I do not want you alone with her anymore. Is that understood?" he asked, and Fili opened his mouth to reply but was cut off. "She is not to be trusted."_

_Fili frowned. Apart from his growing feelings for the witch and his obvious bias, it seemed unfair for his uncle to make such a statement. _

_"Uncle Thorin, how can you say that so surely? Has she not fed us and housed us, and even given us vital information?" he defended._

_"Yes, Fili, she has," he began. "And she has done all of which with _seemingly_ no intention," and Fili frowned at this, ready to come to Eskamë's defense once more. Thorin put his hand up, speaking again. "But I will remind you that she is a witch, something we know very little of. Her motives trouble me."_

_"But what motives? You said yourself that she hasn't any intent!" Fili's voice raised, and movement was heard behind them where the dwarves slept, causing them to continue speaking in whisper. _

_"You are not to spend any more time alone with her, do you understand?" he asked his nephew. When Fili did not reply, Thorin put a hand on his shoulder. "I wouldn't want this matter to get in the way of your allegiance and your ability to continue on this quest."_

_Fili's eyes grew wide. Is that what his uncle was afraid of? Was it even worth implying? Of course he was loyal to Thorin and any of the dwarves in the company. _

_"I am always loyal to you, uncle," he said quietly. Thorin smiled at him._

_"Good. Now get some rest," he said and left Fili standing alone in the doorway. His mind raced: half because of the beautiful woman he'd just kissed, and half because his uncle had practically threatened to leave him behind. _

The young dwarf tried to put the memory out of his mind. He'd seen the look on Thorin's face when Eskamë had requested he come with her. He wanted now, more than anything, to stay behind and prove he had no intentions of betraying anyone. When she'd told him to accompany her, he'd looked around desperately for someone to volunteer to go in his place, but no one seemed to pay him any mind. No one, that is, except Thorin. His dark eyes glared at the witch, and when they settled on Fili, he gave him a stern look and nodded discreetly. Fili knew exactly what he meant.

_Do not betray my trust._

Fili tried to shake off his worry. After all, what could happen? All he had to do was ignore her, show no interest. Though, once his eyes settled on her slender frame and her beautiful face when she turned to smile at him, he realized just how hard this short trip might be.

"These ponies are quite wonderful. Really a very good-looking breed. Where did you happen upon them again?" she questioned.

"From a man they call Beorn, south of here," he replied, rubbing the neck of his horse. Eskamë stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him.

"Not Beorn the skinchanger?" she said in disbelief. Fili looked at her.

"You know of him?"

"Why yes, I know of him. He's been a friend of mine for many, many years," she continued. "But he _hates_ dwarves!" and at this Fili chuckled.

"Indeed. But he is not too fond of orcs either," and she looked at him as he smiled, still petting the pony.

"Well," she started once her horse was ready, "we'd best be off. It'll be a short trip, but, still, the quicker the better if the company is to reach the pass by nightfall."

"Pass?" Fili questioned.

"Yes, there is a narrow pass that lies east of Mount Gunduband. It is the safest way through the mountains to Ered Mithrin," she said, mounting her horse. Fili did the same.

Soon, they were off. They traveled at a decent speed, though nothing that would tire the horses before the real journey began. They rode straight north, towards the nearest foothill where Eskamë thought the best place to gather herbs was. It was a shorter mountain, and far grassier than the tall, precarious looking mountains that lay beyond it.

For a time they rode in silence. This was not something the witch had expected. True, she did not know what to say either, let alone how to bring up their encounter just the night before. But she could sense that the silence was not without reason; there was a fog of confusion and discomfort that had settled in the air between them, and it frustrated her. Every time she spoke, she felt it grow thicker and thicker.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, once again trying to make small talk.

"Yes," he answered simply, keeping his eyes forward and offering no other thoughts. Eskamë gave up.

"Have I done something to offend you?" she questioned sharply. This did, in fact, cause him to look at her. He didn't anticipate having to explain himself.

"What? N-no. Of course not," he said with as much confidence as he could muster. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he knew he'd not even begun to convince her.

"It's just that… well," he tried to make up a reason that didn't involve telling her his uncle had all but forbade him to look at her. "I was just, ya know, doing some uh… well, some thinking."

"Well clearly," she said with a small laugh. "I'm more interested in what you're thinking _about._"

"Right… right," Fili said and cleared his throat. _Why was this so hard?!_

He knew why, of course. It was because merely hours ago he would have been delighted to be alone, at her side, as he was now. He was finding it overwhelmingly hard to keep his promise to his uncle, whatever "promise" that was.

"I was thinking about last night," he said, giving up as little information as he could.

"Ah," she nodded, "I thought as much."

The witch could feel and start to decipher the emotions that swirled around the handsome dwarf. There was discomfort, of course, but there was also something else: regret. She frowned, but turned away. She did not want to reveal the pain that this caused her.

"You regret it then?" she asked. Straightening up her face, she turned towards him. "You regret the kiss?"

"No! Well, I mean… no, of course not," Fili stammered, not sure of how to answer her. "It's not that I _regret_ it or anything. It's just that… that maybe it was, possibly, a bit of a… mistake," he said, the last word tasting bad on his tongue. He instantly knew he'd chosen the wrong thing to say.

Eskamë straightened her posture and looked out in front of her, her lips forming an almost straight line. Fili at once saw her demeanor change entirely. She was no longer the happy, vulnerable woman she'd been when they'd departed. Instead she was back to the way he'd first seen her: closed off, with an elf-like stature, and an ethereal presence that made her appear both mysterious and wise. Silently, he already missed her genuine smiles.

"I see," she began. "So, master dwarf, you do not _regret_ kissing me but you believe it was a _mistake,_" she said, mocking him slightly. Fili bit his tongue. He wanted to blame his uncle, tell her he'd been joking- say absolutely anything he could to take back the damage he'd caused. But he knew he had to keep the charade up. It was his best option; his only option.

"It's just foolish, you know?" he said, trying to adopt a lighter tone. "Of both of us, I mean."

"Right," she said, humoring him. She held her tongue and did not say what she really thought. "It was foolish. What, with you on your quest."

"Exactly!" he exclaimed, not feeling overly positive that she really did understand, but deciding it was best to follow along and end this horrible conversation. "I just need to focus on the quest right now. I did not come on this journey looking for love, you know," and, once more, he knew all too quickly that he'd chosen the wrong words. He was never as good at small talk as his brother, Kili. He silently cursed him for getting all of the charisma in the family.

"Love?!" she said, half laughing. "Who said anything about _love_?" She was starting to become more annoyed than she had the ability to cover up.

"Well- no- I just- I… You know what I mean," he said, admitting defeat and shutting his mouth for once.

"I do, Fili," she said softly, letting herself feel a flicker of pity for the dwarf. Communication was clearly not his strong suit. "You want to keep your priorities on the task at hand," she offered kindly.

"Yes. Yes, you have put it into words," and at this they both snickered a bit. "I cannot let my uncle down," Fili added, more seriously. "He is like a father to me."

"Did you not know your father?" Eskamë asked, truly thankful for a change in conversation.

"For a time I did, but he passed when I was very young. The memories get cloudier every year," he said, dipping his head low. It was again that the witch felt sorry for him.

"I've often wondered what it was like to have a family. To have relatives. It must truly mean something to those who have them," she offered.

"Yes, it does. I don't know what I'd do without my uncle. And Kili. And of course my mum."

"Does she still live?" she asked, almost regretting it, as she didn't want to cause him more sadness. Her spirits lifted when she saw him smile.

"Oh yes. And she's the prettiest dwarf maiden in all middle earth- I won't stand to hear it any other way," he said and chuckled. Eskamë looked at him fondly. She had all but forgotten that merely moments ago she'd been upset with him.

"She doesn't look like an ordinary dwarf woman," he began again. "Beards don't run heavily on her side of the family, so she's never grown one." When Eskamë looked slightly puzzled, he added, "Which is very odd for any dwarf. Thorin, her brother, you understand, never had much of a beard either. And, well, you've seen poor Kili," he said, and they both laughed. Fili reminded himself to stop making Eskamë laugh, and that, somehow, it would not be what his uncle wanted, but when he saw her smile again, the thought was all but forgotten.

"So, judging by Thorin's dark hair, do you get your yellow hair from your father then?" Eskamë asked, wanting to hear more about his family.

"No, no. I get that from my mum. Her mother had lighter hair, you see. But my mum's," he started, but took a breath, caught up in a memory of his mother and his home, which he did miss dearly. "Mum's has always been long, and golden, and beautiful." He looked over at the witch and grinned. "Not like this straw-like mess," he said, grasping a lock of his own hair. Eskamë smiled and laughed again.

"Ah, but you must be very fond of your "straw-like mess." You do, after all, have a fantastic beard," she toyed, grinning at him playfully. He smirked.

"Oh yes, I'm very proud of the beard," he joked, stroking his braided mustache. "It does make Kili very jealous…"

Eskamë heard him continuing on, but no longer registered his words. Suddenly she felt a shift in the emotions that surrounded the two of them. Something drastically different began to flood through her. Something that felt both like hatred and fury…

"_Numen!" _she shouted, commanding the horses to turn West abruptly. Two arrows flew behind them, perfectly aimed for where they had just been a second before.

Whether something she had said or done caused them to speed up, or they were just startled, Fili did not know, but his pony began galloping westward, trying to match the speed of Eskamë's stallion. The change in speed and direction startled Fili and he lost grip of his reigns.

Eskamë heard a short yell and a thump and looked behind her. Fili lay, unmoving, on the ground, the distance between the two of them growing.


	10. Chapter 9

**Ok, I'll admit it. This is hands down my personal favorite chapter so far. It meant to go further in the story, but I got so caught up in the FEELS. Fili is just, literally, the best dwarf in the world in this chapter and you'll see why ;)**

**I'd love to hear what you think of it!**

* * *

Fili had fallen quickly, and he'd hit the ground hard. Trying to catch himself, he'd put his arm out behind him, but his attempt was in vain. He heard a sickening snap as all of his weight collapsed onto his left wrist, and before he'd even stopped moving, pain shot through his hand and resonated up his arm. He rolled over onto his stomach, clutching his wrist to his chest.

There he stayed unmoving for a second, overwhelmed by his pain. He'd broken fingers before so he knew the approximate feeling. But the pain of this made a broken finger seem like a stubbed toe; saying the young dwarf was surprised by it put it mildly.

Suddenly someone grabbed his shoulder and turned him over, the movement eliciting a small cry from the otherwise burly dwarf. Though the sun was behind her, he could tell by the silhouette that it was Eskamë.

"What's wrong?!" Eskamë took her hands off of him as soon as she'd realized he was in pain. Giving no response but another quiet groan, her eyes went down to where he held his wrist against his chest.

"Oh…" she said, then glanced around them. Hastily she reached down to him again. "Can you walk?" she questioned. Fili, finally realizing he couldn't just lie in pain, nodded and stood up, the witch grabbing him by his good arm.

"The horses," Fili started, looking around. Neither of them were anywhere in sight.

"_Uuma dela, _they will come back," Eskamë said. "But not right now." She quickly removed her cloak and tore off about a fourth of it lengthwise. With great speed acquired through much practice, she delicately placed Fili's broken wrist in the fabric and tied the ends around his neck, giving him something of a sling.

"This will help. I can mend it, but not here," and as she said the last statement they heard angry growls. Fili turned his head to look, though he knew the noise by heart.

"Wargs."

"Yes," Eskamë said, taking his free hand. "We must run," she said, and led him west, where the land became higher and rockier. There they could hide and had a better chance in a fight.

They fled to the hills, their enemies closing in behind them. The witch took care to not run in a straight line, knowing at least two of them were archers. In truth, she did not know just how many chased them.

Finally they reached the hills and darted behind tall rocks, hopefully buying them more time. When Eskamë heard arrows hitting the land further away from them, she knew that while they searched, Fili and her would have a bit of time. They stopped in what looked like a cave, but only went a few feet into the side of the hill. She sat Fili down, hearing his breath becoming ragged. He was clearly in some pain.

"Here, chew on this," she said, producing a root-type object from the bag on her hip. At first Fili looked at it skeptically. "For the pain," she added, and Fili snatched it up and did as he was told.

While Fili rested, Eskamë grabbed the small bow she carried on her back. She wasn't much of an archer (she preferred her long sword), but she still had some skill with a bow. Carefully she peered out from behind the rocks, readying her aim. If she were to take one of them out, they would surely know where they hid. So, it would be best to get a good, clean shot out first.

She picked her target and let the arrow fly. She hit the warg in the side of the head, forcing it to fall mid run, and flinging his orc rider out in front of him, trampling him as he came to a halt.

As soon as her shot landed, Eskamë ducked back behind her rock, waiting for the barrage of arrows. Still, however, the orcs hadn't seen where they hid. Savoring her luck, the witch readied another arrow and aimed at her enemy once more. Before she let it fly, however, she heard a snarl and the sound of metal upon stone behind her.

"Fili!" she yelled when she saw his attacker. A lone orc had popped up from somewhere behind and was swinging madly at a startled Fili who was doing his best to avoid the beast's weapon. Quickly the witch pulled out her sword and gave the orc a sharp kick that flung him backwards. She wanted to put as much distance between him and Fili as she could.

The orc was no smarter than any other orc, but he was still fast and resilient. Fili, catching his breath, watched Eskamë in battle, amazed by her skill with a sword. Suddenly another orc appeared behind her, unbeknownst to her. Without a moment's thought, Fili unsheathed one of his daggers, jumped to his feet, and set off towards the hidden orc. Just before he reached him, however, Fili was grabbed from behind, and taken to the ground. He watched Eskamë behead the first orc, but when she turned and saw her second attacker, she was startled. In her attempt to dodge his blow, she stepped on a loose bit of rocks, lost her balance, and fell down.

"Eskamë!" Fili yelled. He watched the orc, now having the higher ground, wield his weapon over his head, ready to release the final blow. Quickly, Fili summoned all of his strength, pulled out another one of his hidden daggers, and stabbed the orc that fought him. He lunged for the orc that stood over Eskamë just before he let his blade fall, tackling him to the ground.

Through gritted teeth, the dwarf pressed on in rage, trying desperately to ignore the pain in his arm. He pulled out his longer knife and slew the orc, just as the rest of the pack began making their way over to him. There were four orcs left, all on wargs, charging towards him. He felt the blood drain from his face. In ordinary circumstances this would be a difficult fight. Now that he was short an arm, he grew fearful.

"E-Eskamë," he called, looking back at her. She still lay lifeless against the rock. He was alone.

He stood his ground, not ready to go down without a fight, and thought about what he stood for. Durin's line, his uncle, his brother and mother, Eskamë…

He saw their faces enter his mind and he reached for a dagger. Aiming perfectly, he threw it and struck one warg down before the pack had reached him. As the closest wolflike animal lunged at him, he moved out of his path at the last second, reaching out with his blade and sticking it in the side of the creature. When the orc was thrown, he survived. Fili saw him approaching Eskamë, and he swung his blade right through the orc's neck. There he stood and remained, allowing no beast to touch the witch, at least not while he still had strength.

* * *

It had been nearly an hour since Eskamë had fallen. In her fall, her head had struck the side of a rock, rendering her unconscious. When she opened her eyes the sun was nearly overhead, and the light from it made her squint her eyes in pain. That is, until the memory of the orcs came back to her and she snapped them wide open at once.

"Fili," she said in a loud whisper. She stood up quickly, steadying herself as her legs trembled from the dizziness. She didn't have to search for long, for the blonde dwarf was leaning against the stones, just a couple of feet from her. When he heard her move, he opened his eyes, though he did not lift any of his tired limbs.

"Thank Mahal, you're awake," he said. Though his voice was raspy and blood trickled from one of his lips, he forced a small smile. Seeing her alive and standing before him was the best sight he'd seen in a long time. True, he worried about her and couldn't bear to think of her not waking up, but he also knew that his strength was spent and he wouldn't be able to make it back alone.

"Have you any more of that root?" he asked her.

"Oh, Fili," the witch said, crouching down to him, inspecting his wounds. Then a thought struck her and she looked around, surveying the surroundings. Numerous carcasses, both orcs and wargs, littered the ground, their blood staining much of the white stones. She then looked back at Fili.

"How did you…" she trailed off and let her question go unanswered, for she knew the answer already, and her heart threatened to beat out of her chest at the thought. She gazed into his blue eyes, and though they were tired, they shone brightly in the sunlight. She felt tears sting her own eyes, and she embraced him, overcome with emotion.

"Ah- ah! My wrist," he said when she'd squeezed him too tightly.

"_Amin hiraetha,_ I'm sorry," she pulled away quickly.

"The root?" he questioned again.

"Oh! Yes, yes!" and she pulled out another, bigger piece of it, and put it in his mouth for him. For half a second her fingers grazed his lips, and even in his haze of pain and misery, Fili couldn't help but get what Kili called "butterflies" at the gentle touch.

"Are you wounded?" Eskamë asked. "I mean, anywhere else besides your wrist," she corrected.

"Well my head's a'thumping, but it's nothing a strong ale can't fix," he said, always trying to tease a smile from the beautiful witch. It worked, for she did smile at him, knowing that if he had a more serious injury, he wouldn't be up for joking. She rose again and looked out over the plains, making sure the area looked clear. Then, she stuck two fingers in her mouth a let out a whistle that seemed to grow in volume the longer she held it. She then turned back to Fili.

"Damon will be here shortly," she said, and began to gather any fallen arrows and daggers.

"Damon?" Fili questioned.

"My horse. It means 'loyal,'" she said with a smile. "For he has always been loyal to me," and just as she finished, there was the sound of hooves nearby.

Eskamë helped Fili stand and led him to the horse. She surveyed him for a moment and then spoke.

"Right. You'll ride in front and I'll sit behind you," she said and began helping him up the side of the horse. Fili pulled away, his dwarfish stubbornness making him unwilling.

"So you mean to hold me? Like an infant?!" he exclaimed, for even in his weary state he was not without pride. Eskamë frowned at him.

"I will be riding with great haste master Fili, and you would need both arms to hang on to me from behind. This is your best option," she said, but Fili still looked unconvinced. "Of course, I could ride back on my own and send a pony for you," she added, knowing this would sway him. And it did; the thought of Fili having to wait here alone, hoping that more orcs did not show up, made him more than a little uneasy. Reluctantly, he agreed to ride in the front.

At once they were off, and Fili silently regretted his initial stubbornness. When the lady said "haste" she meant it! They flew over the plains, the horse taking to them like a bird in the sky. They hadn't spoken since they left, but Fili's mind was racing with little musings. They seemed to grow in number as he became more tired and approached delirium. It seemed as though the root he still chewed on not only eased his pain, but also made him feel giddy. It was some time before he realized he was smiling into the wind as they galloped on.

"Lady Eskamë," he began, noticing a lighthearted sound in his voice that only made him smile more (he made a mental note to ask Eskamë just what this root was later). "Would you really have left me there by my lonesome and sent others for me?" he questioned, and Eskamë registered that he must be feeling quite well, as she had given him a large piece of root. She smiled and looked down at him, as he looked up at her over his shoulder.

"Of course not, _spangaer_," she told him with a giggle. "I never intended to do any such thing.

"_Spang-air,"_ Fili said, trying to imitate her elvish, though his tongue had become more sluggish than usual. "What does that mean?"

Still smiling, the lady answered him.

"It means 'bearded one,' Fili," and he laughed quietly, remembering their banter about his beard earlier in the day. He slowly let his body rest up against hers, feeling suddenly very lethargic. Eskamë noticed his weight against her, and her heart beat fast, enjoying their close proximity.

She looked upon him in wonder. She made a note to give him a proper thanking when he was of a better mind. He'd protected her and all but sacrificed himself in doing so. He truly was a brave and skilled warrior, and she owed him her life. What a triumph, what a fighter, what a… _champion._

"Agh," she said suddenly. "That title will not do. You are much more than a 'bearded one.' You are Fili, _Aratoamin_," she spoke to him, the elvish title giving her goosebumps.

Fili yawned and let his eyes droop.

"And what does that mean?" he questioned her once more.

Eskamë looked down at his blonde head, affection swelling up inside of her. She felt the same tears that threatened to overtake her before welling up once more as she answered.

"My Champion."


	11. Chapter 10

**Sorry this one took me so long! I've been terribly busy with school and yadda yadda. Thanks as always to all of my readers and I do apologize for my ability to post humongous chapters!**

* * *

The door to the small cottage burst open to reveal Eskamë, her hair still flying in behind her. In her arms was the small form of Fili, barely clinging to consciousness. Immediately Thorin stood in front of the witch.

"What happened?!" he yelled, not able to mask all of the worry in his voice as he looked upon his eldest nephew. Eskamë pushed through the wall of dwarves that had now huddled behind her.

"Make way- please!" she commanded, trying to get to the back bedroom of the cottage.

"Fili!" she heard Kili yell once he realized whom she was carrying. "Is he alright?" he asked with concerned desperation in his voice. Eskamë looked over at him and stopped for a moment. She noticed a great fear in his dark eyes.

"Your brother will be fine, Kili," she said to him before she continued her way to the bedroom. Once there she lay Fili down on the bed and turned to shut her door. Thorin stood in the archway, Dwalin and Balin close behind him, while Kili still watched, worried, from a distance.

"I demand an explanation!" Thorin bellowed. He stood still as a stone, blocking the witch's reach to her door.

"Thorin, I must have quiet if I am-"

"What happened?" he asked, interrupting her. Eskamë held her tongue and took a deep breath.

"In due time I will relay the events of today to you, Master Thorin, but now I do need peace and calm to heal Fili's wrist," she said evenly. At the mention of Fili's wrist, Thorin's eyes drifted down to him on the bed. He hesitated, and the witch leaned closer and put a hand of comfort on his shoulder. "I assure you, your nephew will be alright."

Thorin looked back at Fili and then nodded silently.

"Now tell me," she started, standing upright once more. "Where is Gandalf?" she asked, her eyes searching quickly above the heads of the dwarves. "I need to speak with him." At the last statement, Thorin once again grew cautious. He didn't like to think of the lady having things to say to the wizard that he, Thorin Oakenshield, was not allowed to hear.

"He is in the stables, saddling the ponies," Dwalin said, gesturing towards her stables.

"Tell him that is no longer necessary. Tell him I need to speak with him," Eskamë said hurriedly. When none of them made any effort to move she added a stern, "Go!" to urge them off. Thorin strayed for a moment longer, meeting the witch's eyes and making sure she could see and _sense_ how little he trusted her.

Finally alone and in the quiet of her bedroom, Eskamë set to work mending Fili's wrist. His eyelids were fluttering and every now and then a small moan would escape his lips. She knew he would be waking up and the pain would be strong.

"This is going to hurt, Fili," she said softly as she gently took his wrist in her hands. She straightened his arm out, the action causing Fili to open his eyes entirely and call out angrily, in pain.

"You're making it worse!" he said, not quite registering where he was or who was causing him such pain. He tried to pull away, only to be met by an even stronger surge of pain.

"No, _you're_ making it worse," Eskamë said sternly. She held onto him, and he settled down, clawing his good hand into the blankets on the bed. He looked over at her while she worked. There was a book out in front of her. It was a beaten up, ancient looking book. The page she read silently was filled with text, some Fili recognized, and some he did not. On the opposite page were pictures of what appeared to be hands- skeletal hands, of various species.

"Mending bones is easy and painless, but it will take time," she said, feeling his eyes on her.

"You call this painless?!" he half shouted. She looked up at him sharply.

"The _break_ is what hurts. This part, the _mending,_ does not. It will start to feel better soon," she spoke, moving her fingers delicately up the dwarf's wrist, muttering incantations under her breath. Fili began to feel a strange sensation in his fingers, as if he'd fallen asleep on his arm and then woken up to the tingling feeling left behind. Instinctively, he tried to move his fingers. Pain, once more, shot up his wrist. He flinched and Eskamë raised her head, her concentration broken. She frowned at him.

"Do not move until I say so!" she said harshly, then went back to her spells. Fili lay on his back, suffering from pain and a bruised ego.

"Don't you have anymore of that chewing stuff? I was in a far better mood while I had some of that in my mouth," Fili muttered. She did not reply but kept her concentration. He looked over at her. Her head was bowed and both of her hands held his wrist, her fingers pushing down ever so slightly onto his bones. The witch's eyes were closed and through her lips Fili could hear whispers in some foreign tongue.

"You were much more pleasant to be around too," he said quietly. Though she did not open her eyes, he saw a smile form on her face, and, somehow, the touch of her fingers on his skin seemed even softer. He smiled too, and tried to relax, his pain beginning to subside.

When he felt her let go of his hand he opened his eyes, and just as he did, the door flew opened and in walked Gandalf. His expression was concerned, but once he saw that they both were in good enough health, he relaxed.

"What happened?" he questioned Eskamë. She looked at him and then turned to place her book back on the shelf.

"Mithrandir," she began, "you did not tell me everything you knew."

Gandalf looked at the witch, first with confusion, but then, once he knew there was no fooling the woman, sighed.

"We were attacked. By orcs," Eskamë said. "Orcs on wargs. Gandalf, I knew my lands had grown dangerous of late, but never had I thought that I could not even venture to the foothills without risking life and limb," she said sternly. She waited for the wizard's reply.

"They have been chasing us for some time. Azog is the once who leads them," he said, placing his hat on the foot of the bed and taking a seat in an old armchair near the door.

"_Azog?_" she questioned intensely. "That is no ordinary orc."

"No… no he is not."

"Gandalf, there is a new evil at work here, something stirring in many places of this world, and you have felt it too, though you have yet to give it a name," Eskamë said as she began to pull different plants and seeds out of jars that lined her walls. Gandalf nodded.

"Yes, indeed. The orcs in this land are growing larger in number-"

"And now breeding the wild wolves for their own evil purposes," she interrupted him.

"That is true as well. This evil may be new to us, but it has been hard at work for some time," he said quietly. She looked at him and then the two of them looked to Fili, who lay on the bed looking groggy, but listening.

"What do you mean? What's he talking about?" Fili questioned, but the witch and the wizard ignored him for now.

"What have you heard of it?" Eskamë pressed on.

"I have heard little, other than the frantic whispers one picks up on the road," he began and then paused to look at her gravely. "But I have seen much more.

"We ran into trolls before we reached Rivendell on our way out of the Shire. They were further south than they've been for an age. And then there were the goblin armies of the mountain, who've grown very vicious indeed."

"They've always been vicious," Eskamë countered.

"No," Gandalf said, shaking his head. "They're worse. They're… working with someone. Or something," he finished, Eskamë stopping once more to look at him.

"Do you know who- or what- it could be?" she asked, and something in her voice made both Gandalf and Fili (who still listened intently) feel as though she already had an answer for herself.

"No, I do not. But Radagast spoke of evil in the forest as well," Gandalf spoke, and Eskamë stopped working abruptly.

"Radagast? You did not tell me you spoke to Radagast."

"We crossed paths as he was fleeing his home in the Greenwood. He said that evil has come over that forest, even over his own home," Gandalf explained. Eskamë thought on this for a moment, her brow furrowed.

"What else did he-" she began to ask, but cut herself off. A feeling washed over her, a vision almost, and she dared not ignore it. "He brought you something," she said, barely above a whisper. Gandalf nodded.

"It was an ancient weapon. Believed to be buried with the Witch King of Angmar," he said, and at the last bit, Eskamë's eyes opened wide, and fear washed over her face. Fili watched from the bed as the two in front of him stared across at each other for a time, somehow communicating with just their expressions.

"Sauron…" Eskamë started, but Gandalf cut her off.

"We have no proof that any of this evil is the work of the Dark Lord- none at all," he countered. She did not fall for it.

"That is not you talking, Mithrandir. I know you have felt the same. You recognize this evil as I do," she said, and then paused again. Once more a vision of emotion danced behind her eyes. Fili was starting to recognize this look as the one she wore when she'd completed a puzzle in her mind. "We are not the only ones who recognize it, are we?" the witch asked and Gandalf averted his eyes. When he did not answer, she asked again. "Who else has sensed this power growing?"

Gandalf shut his eyes before he answered. He could not ignore the growing fear in his heart any longer, even in the presence of those who doubted him. He may trust Sauroman, but he also trusted Eskamë greatly. And, of course, he trusted himself.

"Galadriel has voiced her concern."

"Gandalf," Eskamë started, her voice becoming slightly breathless, "If the Lady of Light has felt the return of the Dark Lord, who are any of us to deny it?" she questioned, and Gandalf nodded reluctantly. "There are many elves in this world that I do not trust, and for good reason, but the Lady Galadriel is not one of them. She is most wise and most fair. Far more wise than even the highest wizard," she said knowingly, thwarting Gandalf's revere towards Sauroman.

"Yes, but for all our information, we still need more answers," Gandalf said, shaking his head.

"Answers to what?" the witch questioned.

"Answers to the riddles. To the whereabouts of the Ring," he said, and Eskamë felt a great swell of evil and disheartening emotion crash through her. It was silent before Fili spoke up.

"What ring? What are you talking about?" he asked. The two others looked at him as if they'd just noticed him for the first time. In truth, they had been so caught up in their conversation that they had quite forgotten the dwarf's presence. It was Eskamë who answered him.

"The One Ring," she said, though Fili still looked confused. "Have you not heard the rhyme?" she asked and Fili shook his head. Eskamë sighed and recited the ancient poem.

"_Three Rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky, _

_Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,_

_Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,_

_One for the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne_

_In the Land of Mordor where the shadows lie._

_One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,_

_One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them_

_In the Land of Mordor where the shadows lie."_

"That's just a legend though, right?" Fili asked, his eyes going from Eskamë and the Gandalf, and back to Eskamë. Neither of them answered, and eventually Gandalf rose from his chair.

"Right. Well, I will tell the others that we will all leave as a company at dawn, for Fili will be quite ready then," he said, and then nodded to Fili and left. Eskamë looked down at the dwarf.

"I will go comfort your worried uncle and brother and bring you some tea," she said, kindly, smiling at him before she left him alone.

In the kitchen, while Eskamë brewed her tea, she regaled the company with the story of what happened to Fili and how he came to break his wrist.

"When we took shelter in the hills, we were ambushed again. I did my best to fight them off but," she stopped, her eyes drifting downwards, the memory fuzzy and dark. "I fell. I fell and struck my head and did not recover. And, when I woke… they were gone."

"Gone?" questioned Thorin.

"They were called off?" Bofur asked, confused.

"No, they were slain. All of them," she said, and met Thorin's eyes as he understood. "Fili killed them all. Nearly a dozen of them and their wolves. I owe my life to him, and to the line of Durin," she said, and bowed her head to Thorin before picking up her tray holding the kettle and mugs and going back down the hall to Fili.

When she entered, she saw the dark haired dwarf sitting beside Fili. The two of them were talking. They stopped when she entered.

"See, I told you he would be right as rain," Eskamë said to Kili with a smile. He was the first one in the room as soon as she'd allowed Fili any visitors. It comforted her to see Kili looking bright again now that he knew no exceptional harm had come to his brother. The younger dwarf stood up in front of Eskamë.

"I must thank you, Lady Eskamë, for saving my brother. I am indebted to you," he said, and bowed his own head low. Eskamë looked past him to Fili and arched an eyebrow.

"Did he not tell you then?" she questioned, and Kili looked back at his brother, confused.

"Tell me what?" Eskamë smiled down at him.

"It was not _I_ who saved _him, _but, rather, the other way around," she said, and Kili furrowed his brow in confusion. Eskamë turned away to pour the tea. "We will have time for stories later," she said, handing Kili a cup. "For now, your brother needs rest if we are to leave in the morning." Kili nodded in understanding and left, shutting the door behind him. Eskamë poured another cup of tea and turned to see Fili staring at her, smiling.

"What is it?" she asked. Fili continued to look over at her, standing in front of her window, the afternoon sun blanketing her body in visible warmth.

"My lady, did you know when you stand in the sunlight you positively… _bloom?_" he asked, and she laughed and felt her cheeks redden.

"Your mind is still cloudy, my Fili," she said, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed. She set his cup of tea down on the bedside table.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No it isn't," Fili told her, reaching up with his good hand and taking one of her braids in his fingers, twisting it gently. Eskamë broke the silence.

"Fili, I must thank you for what you did for me," she said, and Fili opened his mouth to object, but she placed a finger on his lips. "I do not care to hear your stubborn, dwarvish rebuttal, but only to say that I am indebted to you," she said, and he shut his lips as her fingers moved down to graze his chin and beard. When their eyes met and held, Eskamë could hardly contain herself and her longing. She leaned over him gently, allowing her lips to first graze his own with a light kiss, and then his forehead. She lingered above him for a moment and whispered "_Diola lle_," her breath on his skin making him shiver. Fili grinned up at her.

"I know that one," he began. "_Lle creoso_," he said. She smiled at him and kissed him once more before leaving him to his rest.

_Diola lle_= Thank you

_Lle creoso_= You're welcome


End file.
